Mark had been in a daze for days. The apartment felt colder than usual, the silence more suffocating. He hadn't eaten much, hadn't gone to the gym like he usually did, and definitely hadn't been able to concentrate at work. The moment Mia told him she had slept with someone else, everything in his world shifted. His mind kept looping back to her face during that dinner—her eyes full of guilt, her voice shaky, her hands trembling as she said she didn't deserve him.
And the worst part? She never told him who it was.
Mark's thoughts raced as he sat on his couch, gripping his phone. He had stalked Mia's socials, going through her photos, recent comments, even people she had tagged over the past few months. A few names kept popping up. But one name showed up more than the rest: James.
He decided he couldn't take the uncertainty anymore. He needed closure. He needed answers. Most of all, he needed to see her.
Mark drove to Mia's apartment with no plan—just a bouquet of flowers and a heart full of hope. He rehearsed his words on the way there, imagining a conversation where they could mend things, or at least part on honest terms.
But as he turned the corner into Mia's hallway, his heart dropped.
Another man was already there, standing at her door, holding flowers.
Mark's breath caught in his throat. The flowers slipped from his fingers.
"You," he said, voice tight.
The man turned slowly. Tall, confident, with that smug energy that made Mark's skin crawl. It was James.
James raised a brow, clearly amused. "Well, this is awkward."
Mark clenched his fists. "You're the guy Mia told me about, aren't you?"
James didn't deny it. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle. "Maybe. Depends on how well you know your girlfriend."
Anger surged through Mark. "You think this is funny?"
"I think," James said, stepping closer, "that if your relationship was really that solid, she wouldn't have let it go so easily."
Mark didn't think—he reacted. His fist connected with James's jaw before he could stop himself. James stumbled back, shocked, but not for long. He lunged at Mark, shoving him against the wall. The two men grappled, fists flying, grunts echoing through the hallway.
Doors opened. Neighbors peeked out, some gasping, others pulling out phones to record the chaos.
Then Mia's door swung open.
She stood there in loose pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt, hair tied in a messy bun, face pale.
"Oh my god! Stop it!" she screamed.
Mark and James froze.
"Inside. Now."
The tone of her voice was enough to cut through the tension. Both men reluctantly followed her in, James rubbing his jaw, Mark adjusting his shirt.
Mia led them to her dining table, motioning for them to sit.
"What the hell is wrong with you two?" she demanded, pacing the small kitchen area. "Fighting in my hallway? Are you serious?"
James leaned back in the chair, still smirking. "He hit me first."
"You provoked me!" Mark snapped. "Showing up here like you belong—"
"I've known Mia longer than you have," James interrupted smoothly. "Maybe it's time she remembered that."
"Both of you, stop!" Mia shouted, holding her head in her hands. "Do you have any idea what I'm going through right now? I've been trying to make sense of all this, and now you're both here acting like I'm some prize to be fought over."
Mark leaned forward. "Mia, I just want to understand. I still love you. I thought we were good. I thought we had something real."
"I know," Mia whispered. "And I'm sorry."
James folded his arms. "I'm not here to apologize. I'm here because I care. And I know you feel something for me too. You wouldn't have let things happen the way they did if you didn't."
Mia looked between the two men, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I can't do this," she said. "I can't be in the middle of this… whatever this is. I need space. I need peace."
James leaned forward. "What are you going to do now?"
"That's none of your business," Mia said sharply. "Both of you need to leave. If you don't, I swear, I'll call the cops."
Neither of them moved immediately.
"I mean it," she said. "Get out. Stop bothering me. Stop fighting. Just—go."
Reluctantly, the men stood. Mark paused at the doorway, looking back at her. "I'm not giving up on you, Mia."
She didn't respond.
James followed silently, and the door clicked shut behind them.
Mia stood in the middle of the room for several minutes, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her heart pounded in her ears. The stress of it all had worn her down to the bone.
She walked to her desk and powered on her laptop. The light from the screen flickered to life. She opened a browser tab and typed in something she hadn't thought she'd need: "healing retreats nearby"
Scrolling quickly through the results, her eyes settled on a small island wellness center known for spiritual healing and trauma release. A friend had once mentioned it in passing. Mia clicked through the photos—lush greenery, white sand beaches, quiet meditation huts.
There was also a healer on that island who is known to heal illnesses and solve people's problems. Maybe she can seek out help for something that she can't even understand herself.
Yes. That was what she needed.
She listed the bus and ferry schedules available for the week and made sure everything is ready. She booked a cat sitter for her cat Mimi for at least two weeks. She packed lightly—just the essentials, her journal, and a few books. She doesn't want anyone knowing or asking what her plans are. This is a time for herself – a time to disconnect from the world.
The next morning, she was gone, without telling a soul where she would go. This was the first time that she didn't let her family and friends know what she was planning to do. She needed to be alone, she needed healing, she needed a resolution to this whirlwind she's going through.